


Play Date

by microwaveslayer



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3106511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microwaveslayer/pseuds/microwaveslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a “play date” for both Cecil and Janice.</p><p>Include kids walking into “adult conversations,” Janice being manipulative and also really sarcastic, and Earl’s kid is nonbinary because I couldn’t decide on a gender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Date

“Do we really have to, Uncle Cecil?” Janice asked, smoothing out her skirt for the millionth time. “Do you think Mom would be okay with a play date?”  
“Earl's been my friend for a while,” Cecil explained, eyes focused on the road. “He said he had a child of his own. I think it might be nice for you to make some friends.”  
“But Megan and Ta--”  
“Nice girls, but not exactly the company your mother would approve of,” Cecil told her, offering the girl a small smirk.  
“But--”  
“No buts,” Cecil told her, pulling into the dusty driveway of the house. Cecil licked his lips and asked, “Do you need any--”  
“No, Uncle Cecil,” Janice sighed. She began the routine of getting her wheelchair out and getting into it, all under Cecil's careful watch.   
“Do you--”  
“No, Uncle Cecil,” Janice sighed, rolling her eyes.   
“Right,” he said, slowing his pace to walk alongside her chair as she made her way up the driveway.   
Thankfully, Earl had a ramp. Janice made her way up it, wondering why. Was there a scout like her that needed ramps? Maybe she should meet whoever needed the ramp. Surely her mother couldn't argue if she made friends with a Boy Scout.  
“Ready?” Cecil asked, giving her a smile.  
“Yes,” Janice sighed, rolling her eyes.  
Cecil rang the doorbell and stood as still as possible. That meant fidgeting and grinning and preening all in the course of three minutes.  
Earl opened the door, saw Cecil, and smiled. He turned and gave Janice a nod.  
“Come inside, you two,” Earl told them, standing aside. “Sorry if the house is a mess. Kennedy and I rushed to pick up a little.”  
Cecil smiled at him, stepping inside. Janice huffed, rolling her chair into the foyer. She did not like that man. Too friendly with Uncle Cecil.  
Earl paused at the bottom of the stairs and called up, “Kennedy, we have company. Come on down.”  
A child, about Janice's age, shuffled into view and down the stairs. Instead of saying hello, the child hid behind Earl, peeking out at Janice in slight fear.  
“Say hello, Kennedy,” Earl told the child. “Don't be rude.”  
“H-hi,” the child choked out, biting their lip.  
“You look a lot like your father,” Cecil told the child.  
Janice scrunched up her nose. The straight, dark hair, olive skin, and brown eyes was nothing like Earl. Earl had pale skin, freckles, and red hair.  
“Janice,” Cecil warned her gently. “Be nice to Kennedy.”  
Janice sighed and glared at the child cowering behind Earl. Kennedy offered a small wave and Janice looked down, smoothing out her skirt again.  
“Well, your uncle and I have some important things to talk about,” Earl said, watching Janice. “We'll be upstairs.”  
“Scream if you need anything,” Cecil added.  
Earl gave Cecil a smirk and they headed upstairs. Once they were out of sight, Janice stuck out her tongue.  
“We could play some board games,” Kennedy offered.  
“Lame.”  
“We could watch television.”  
“Nothing's on right now.”  
“What do you want to do?” Kennedy asked.  
“I want your uncle to stop being so friendly with Uncle Cecil,” Janice admitted, sighing.  
“Friendly?”  
“Yeah, it's like the way my mom looks at my stepdad.”  
“Oh.”  
“What do you think they're doing?” Janice asked, staring up the stairs.  
“I don't want to know,” Kennedy admitted, turning a bit green.  
Janice turned her head to Kennedy and asked, “Are you a Boy Scout? I would know if you were a Girl Scout.”  
“Well, kinda-sorta,” Kennedy said. “I'm kinda like both, but Dad made me go into the Boy Scouts.”  
Janice frowned, “You guys get to wrestle spider-wolves. All we ever do is espionage and helicopter flight practice.”  
“Those sound pretty cool.”  
“It's boring and repetitive,” Janice told them. “Sometimes I hang out with Tamika Flynn. She's cool.”  
“She does such dangerous stuff,” Kennedy pointed out. “Dad wants me to stay away from her.”  
“That's stupid. Tamika's really cool and she never lets anything happen to me,” Janice said.  
Kennedy nodded, looking down.  
“Can you carry me?” Janice asked, staring at the top of the stairs.  
“Why?”  
“Because I'm curious,” Janice told them. “I won't die if you touch me.”  
Kennedy asked, “But what if I can't?”  
“Just pick me up, okay?”  
Kennedy bit their lip, but carefully scooped Janice up. Janice smirked and put her arm around their neck, just in case.  
“Now what?”  
“Carry me upstairs,” Janice told them.  
“What? No!”  
“Just do it,” Janice sighed. “Then you can set be down and bring my chair up.”  
“This is a bad idea,” Kennedy muttered.   
“I know,” Janice told them. “I've been through worse.”  
Kennedy sighed and started up the stairs slowly. Janice grinned as she got her way. When Kennedy set her on the top stair, she nodded.  
“Now just bring up my chair,” she urged them.  
Kennedy darted downstairs, awkwardly bringing up Janice's wheelchair. Kennedy scooped her up, setting her carefully in the chair.   
“I didn't hurt you?”  
“I'm fine,” Janice assured them.  
“But--”  
“Shhh,” Janice grumbled. She listened carefully, moving down the hallway, trying to figure out which door was the one her uncle and Kennedy's dad were hiding behind.  
A loud gasp made Janice crane her neck and listen. The sigh was followed by a moan and creaking. Once Janice was sure which door it was, she gripped the handle and threw it open.  
Janice stared at the scene, too terrified to move away or scream. Kennedy, once they saw what was going on, yelped and covered their eyes.  
“Oh my gods,” Cecil sighed, covering his face with both hands. Awkwardly, Earl wrapped himself in a sheet and nodded at Janice to close the door.  
She did and turned to Kennedy, muttering, “They were getting way too friendly.”  
“That's horrible!” Kennedy asked, turning green. “Awful! I'm going to be seeing that for the rest of my life.”  
Janice patted their shoulder and told them, “I'm sorry I talked you into this.”

A few minutes later, everyone was seated around Earl's table. Cecil was nursing a cup of coffee, refusing to look at Earl of Kennedy.  
“Janice, sweetie, why did you and your friend come upstairs?” he asked.  
“Well, he--” Janice pointed at Earl-- “was getting too friendly with you and I wanted to figure out why you couldn't talk in the kitchen.”  
Earl sighed and asked Kennedy, “You let her talk you into it?”  
“Yeah, but, Dad,” Kennedy began.  
“No buts, Kennedy.”  
“I'm really sorry dad,” Kennedy muttered, looking sick.  
Earl sighed and turned to Cecil, “Your niece is manipulative and I'm not sure I want her around Kennedy.”  
Cecil, looking offended, replied, “If your child wasn't such a push-over, non of this would have happened.”  
“Uncle Cecil?”  
“Quiet, sweetie.”  
“Dad?”  
“Not now, Kennedy.”  
“Uncle Cecil!” Janice yelled. “Don't argue with him! It is kinda my fault.”  
“And mine,” Kennedy added. “I carried her upstairs--”  
“You carried her upstairs?” Cecil screeched. “Did you even think about how you could have hurt her?”  
“Do not yell at my child, Cecil,” Earl growled.  
“Uncle Cecil, I'm fine!” Janice insisted. “I hang out with Tamika and we do dangerous stuff all the time!”  
“You let her hand out with Tamika Flynn?” Earl asked.  
“You hardly let your child play with anyone,” Cecil pointed out.  
“Do you wanna go back upstairs?” Kennedy asked Janice softly.  
“No. I kinda want to go home,” she told Kennedy. “But then I wouldn't be able to see you.”  
Kennedy nodded and told her, “We could go play out front.”  
“That sounds like a good idea,” Janice said, nodding. “Maybe they'll go back to what they were doing.”  
She began rolling her chair out of the kitchen and into the foyer. Kennedy held the door for her, shuddering as he looked back at his dad and Janice's uncle. He joined her outside and closed the door.  
Janice stopped to draw in the sand with a stick. Kennedy sat on the ground next to her, watching the intricate patterns.  
“What were they doing?” Kennedy asked. “Before all the yelling and fighting, I mean.”  
“It's a bad word,” Janice said, not looking up from her sand drawing. “My mom told me she would wash my mouth out with soap if I said it.”  
“I won't tell,” Kennedy promised. “Honestly, I won't tell anyone.”  
Janice sighed and looked up, directly into Kennedy's eyes, and told them, “They were fucking.”


End file.
